


Morgana isn't a Morning Person

by morganadarkwings



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-07
Updated: 2013-02-07
Packaged: 2017-11-28 13:32:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/674948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morganadarkwings/pseuds/morganadarkwings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Morgana finds a nice new way to make mornings a little easier.  Gwen rather enjoys it too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Morgana isn't a Morning Person

Morgana despised mornings. It was then she was at her most tempestuous and easily angered, and had been known to throw things at Gwen at the slightest provocation. Not that the handmaiden ever made a habit of provoking her mistress, but she was especially careful not to in the mornings, for they were her favourite time to be around her lady.

Often, when the night had been long and plagued with nightmares, Morgana would look up from her bed, the covers pulled up to her chin, and gaze imploringly into Gwen's eyes. "Just five minutes?" she would breathe, and Gwen's resolve would be lost. So her skirts would be hitched up, although not grudgingly, and she would slide into bed beside Morgana, knowing that if they were caught, not even her lady's spirit and demands could save her position. She would lie on her back, stretching one arm out towards Morgana, and the younger woman would move in quickly, curling against her side, one leg resting over Gwen's, both of them laughing softly when she became entangled in Gwen's dress. And a moment later, the last of her resolve would crumble under the weight of her devotion to Morgana, and she would begin to stoke the delightfully soft, dark hair, only slightly mussed from a restless night.

The most delicious thing was when Morgana was finally persuaded to at least sit up in bed, and she would make a show of stretching. Sometimes Gwen wondered if Morgana did it on purpose, but she was _almost_ sure her mistress had no idea of Gwen's feelings for her. She would lean back on her elbows, her back lifted from the bed and her head tipped back so that her raven hair pooled on the white sheet, a contrast which for some reason caused a painful ache between the handmaiden's legs. With Morgana's eyes closed, Gwen would allow herself a few moments to just drink in the sight of her mistress, watching as though transfixed as every breath in caused the full, creamy white breasts to press even harder against her shift.

Morgana was doing so now, and Gwen could barely keep her hands still. She could almost see the gentle peaks which so mesmerised and, yes, aroused her, when Morgana was cold. She wished that Morgana was enjoying being watched. She wished that Morgana could hear her thoughts and admit that she felt the same. She wished that she could just run her tongue up...

"Guinevere?" Morgana asked sharply, and to her horror, she realised that her mistress had been speaking to her. Her head was still tipped back in a stretch and Gwen turned away quickly to hide her flushed cheeks, in case Morgana should look up suddenly.

"Yes, Lady Morgana?" she asked, her hands darting out nervously to smooth out a crease from a folded dress which had no creases.

"I asked you to see about drawing me a bath, Guinevere," Morgana responded, "and next time, you might like to close your mouth."

"My lady?" Gwen asked, confused, her heart pounding as she prayed she hadn't been caught.

"Look at me, Gwen. Turn around now and look at me." Morgana did sound a little cross, but not as cross as someone who had just caught her handmaiden staring at her breasts... Gwen hoped.

She turned around, unable to help choking out a gasp.

Morgana was still stretching, her body taut, her breasts pressing mercilessly against the tiny barrier of fabric restricting their freedom. By now her nipples were tight and erect and seemed almost as dark as her hair, and Morgana _had_ to know that she was so obviously turned on, which meant that she was doing it for Gwen's benefit. And suddenly, Gwen found she couldn't breathe. All she could do was watch as Morgana shifted her weight to just one arm, the hand of the other snaking around and slowly beginning to inch up her shift.

"M-Morgana?" Gwen asked slowly, her mouth dry and her heart racing.

Only a stifled gasp in response from her mistress, as her shift was finally moved and the shadow of her dark curls was exposed, her fingers quickly gliding over them and lower, to where-

"Morgana, stop!" Gwen commanded, with more authority than she thought she could muster at any time, let alone when she was watching her lady calmly touching herself and practically begging to be watched. The moment Morgana stopped, raising her head to look at her handmaiden in confusion and desperation, Gwen climbed inelegantly onto the bed, wrenching Morgana's hand away and sliding her own down into the delicious heat...


End file.
